I hope you like this real-life recording of Bruno's song, Lace Up My Wings. ^^^^ :)
BACK TO THE STORY (one last time)
"We're here to talk about Bruno."
Sunlight shimmered in Camilo's dark hair, lighting it a fiery copper. The birds swooping through the sky tittered cheerfully. Delicious wind flowed through your sleeves. It was a perfect autumn day.
How incongruous with a funeral.
"I loved my Tio," Camilo continued, his posture firm and jawset grave, "Because he was a trier. People didn't always like him. Fate didn't always fall his way. But he tried. And when people accepted his love, he loved fiercely."
Burying Bruno felt odd, like a story extinguished before the climax. Bruno had been insecure, sad, and dejected up until his death. Aren't characters supposed to conquer their deepest hurt? Aren't only the happy, the beautiful, the golden ones supposed to die early?
"His sacrifice saved Mirabel. He saved me." Camilo swallowed tightly, frown lines grooving an eleven between his eyebrows. The black suit jacket clinging too his arms was slightly too small around the shoulders. Camilo had obviously grown since he last tugged it on. You all had grown.
"I wish I could bring him back. But sometimes wishes can't come true." Camilo had stopped prosing to the crowd. His hands stiffly rested by his sides and he studied the coffin as if half-expecting Bruno to clumsily sit upright. "Tio, I'll miss you. You deserved better than this."
It was an awkward mourning, an ineloquent speech. Silently, the citizens of the encanto shuffled forward to cast fistfuls of dirt over Bruno's coffin. Alma, clad in a heavy, black shawl, led the village, her frail fingers trembling. With remorse? With regret? Perhaps just with grief for the cruel end of her only son.
Cold dirt slipped through your fingers, sprinkling on the coffin below. Bitter sadness for the man who had hated himself crushed your ribs.
Goodbye, Bruno. I'm sorry it never got better.
Behind you, Camilo hastily scooped dirt into his hand, spilling it into the hole as if he couldn't wait to finish the awful affair. But when his hand released, he stood crystallized, his light hazel eyes flicking back and forth in unfocused grief.
Valeria patiently waited, blinking at Camilo with uncharacteristic understanding. Tears shone in her eyes as she half-smiled at you. "My new fish just died. Bruno was right all along."
"I'm sorry for your loss," you apologetically mumbled, nodding quickly before shouldering toward Camilo's straightened frame.
His forced, stiff posture bore an uncanny resemblance to Alma's unnatural composure. Funny what grief does to people.
"You ready to go?" Mirabel whispered, touching his elbow with her bandaged-wrapped hand. Yellowed gauze twined around her arms, the last remnant of her golden disease. The recovery of the miracle had gently breathed health into her sallow cheeks. But reddened tissue scars marred her pocked facial skin where her own poison blood had eaten through. A permanent reminder of her suffering.
Camilo startled awake, regarding Mirabel for a moment. He inhaled a shuddering breath, then glided the calloused palm of his hand against yours. "Yeah, let's go."
When you curled your fingers tightly around his, Camilo squeezed back with a near-crushing grip. You didn't let go.
"Do you think he's out there?" Camilo said later that night, his knees pulled tight against his chest. From the sandy-tiled rooftop, the stars exploded across the black sky, tiny diamonds spilled over a carpet.
"Sebastian would think so," you quietly suggested, nuzzling your nose against Camilo'a warm neck. The night was a cold mist.
With the last of the Candella candle's melting wax, Gothel had forcefully absorbed Marcos' gift. He'd extinguished the threat of your father. With Sebastian's rough encouragement, Gothel had slashed his own memories apart.
With no memory of the golden drug, gifts, or magic, Gothel would never learn of his dark potential. Sebastian had guided him away from the encanto to live a bland, charmed life. Your uncle had glared and griped about Gothel's plan. But you noticed how he watched Gothel with careful sharpness in his green eyes, as if preparing to take a blade in the chest for him. You knew he wouldn't mind. They would take care of each other.
Camilo's forearm was touching yours, lingering softly. You held still, afraid to break the skin-to-skin contact. Camilo's tired hazel eyes slid to you. "So what now?"
"Anything," you whispered, tracing a pattern with your eyes in the stars. Camilo was a black silhouette next to you. The swirls of the galaxy twisting across the canvas sky awakened an odd, small feeling inside of you. You felt insignificant and powerful all at once. "Anything we want."
5 YEARS LATER
You loved the marketplace in the spring.
Cotton clouds, tinted golden by the sun, stretched across the sky. The fresh tang of approaching rain sweetened the air.
Ripples of laughter punctuated the hubbub of chatter and gossip. You wove through the crowd, grinning to Cristina as she passed. She cheerfully waved back, bouncing her carrot-top 1-year-old on her hip. Even after her happy marriage to Senor Gomez, she'd still remained close with you and Mirabel.
"Are you excited for the ceremony tonight, sweetie?" The steel shopkeeer graciously asked, counting out your tiny coins on her marble countertop.
"Oh, of course," you cheerfully agreed, "as long as I can finish this guitar in time!" 5 years ago, Marcos had been generously offered a refuge in the Encanto. Perhaps too generously, in your opinion. However, he'd shaken his head in agitation, coldly insisting that his wife was still alive. The last you'd seen of him, he'd shuffled over the mountains, anger and confusion sparking his gaze as he embarked on a doomed quest to find nothing but ghosts.
Five years later, you'd blossomed into the Encanto's finest guitar craftsman. After the enthused reception of Camilo's theatre performances, it seemed that every villager longed to grab their own guitar.
You loved the business, but you didn't exactly need money. You payed your adoptive Abuela a feeble rent to live in her cozy saltbox home, but only because you insisted.
"I recognize you!" The steel shopkeeper suddenly burst, his tiny blue eyes blinking wide. He shoved his wiry glasses further up his nose. "You're the girl with the oldest Madrigal boy."
"I am," you smiled, inclining your head in concession.
"You've been in love for 5 years." He mused, sorting out a boxy block of steel that flashed in the sunlight. "The talk of the town. Everyone thinks your wedding will be next."
"Ah, they do?" You raised your eyebrows, leaning your elbows on the marble counter.
"Maybe you'll marry him someday," the shopkeeper suggested, a playful gleam in his eyes.
"If he asks me as himself, maybe i'll say yes."
The shopkeeper's lanky height deflated an inch, morphing his pale skin tones into a deep coffee.
"It was worth the shot." Camilo smirked, leaning over the counter until his nose almost touched yours.
"Don't you have things to do?" You grinned back, narrowing your eyes at him like a staring contest. "Little Maya's gifting ceremony is today. I don't think I have to remind you that Dolores can hear exactly where you are."
"Dolores and her daughter can wait." Camilo half-smiled, but abruptly the humor vanished from his eyes. He swallowed, blinking at you as if about to share a dangerous secret.
"20 years old and you're still avoiding chores. Just go help Mariano with the banners!" You'd meant to joke, but Camilo didn't respond. Sweat beaded on his forehead even though the air felt moist and chilled. He bit his cheek, looking sick with nerves.
"What?" You reached across the counter to rest your hand on his. It shook slightly, like it had the night he'd taken a beating for you. Concerned, you studied his eyes.
"If I really asked you to marry me, would you say yes?" Camilo breathily whispered, all too fast in a messy haze of words.
"Are you asking?" Your heartbeat twisted, thumping painfully loud. You stared at him, desperately hoping that for once his words were cold serious.
"I'm asking," he said, clumsily digging through his pocket and pulling out a velvet, black box. Hands unsteady, he held your gaze while planting the box in the palm of your hand. "You don't have to say yes if that's too much. If you don't want to marry me we don't have to change, but I'm deeply in love with you and-"
"Yes," you quietly interrupted, smearing hot tears away from your eyes. A surreal giggle burst from your chest. "Yes, Camilo."
Relief exploded across his gaze. He slid the golden ring over your finger, reverently holding your hand as if touching a queen. The ring sparkled, a life-filled diamond cut into the shape of a shimmering butterfly.
"I love you, Mariposa. I always will," he roughly murmured, before holding your face in his hands and kissing you fiercely over the marketplace stall.
And you forgot the block of steel, but it was okay.
It's not every day that you marry a shapeshifter.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *
I hope you liked this story. :)